By Surprise
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: Based off the 1990 film "Lord of the Flies". Jack comes across Roger punishing another boy on his behalf, and after dismissing the third boy the lead Savages find there's more to their friendship than just hate for Ralph and the rules of civilization.


**By Surprise**

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**A/N: This is a fanfic based off the 1990 film and is meant to detail the complicated relationship Jack and Roger have with each other, as well as how each of them feels about being on the island and the prospect of being stuck there for the long term. Jack is rather pessimistic and simply afraid to cling on to hope of rescue like Ralph does, mostly for fear of being disappointed. Roger, on the other hand, is a sadistic and cold-hearted boy, angry at the laws of civilization and the restrictions they put on his actions. Roger loves having the freedom to do anything he wants on the island and the ability to make the other boys suffer whenever he feels like it. Jack pretends not to notice because Roger is the only true friend that he has and he knows he needs Roger to stay in control. Lastly, while the film and book both did not include any scene like the one I depict here, I expect that it could have happened if the circumstances I present occurred. The story is M-rated for a reason so keep that in mind.**

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Tony needed to go. Oh, Christ, did he need to. He was on fire watch- a highly important but only nighttime post since Jack used fire made from Piggy's stolen glasses to cook the meat of pigs the hunters caught- and he had been needing to take a piss for the past half hour. He'd been afraid to go, though. Afraid of something so simple he would have never even thought about when he'd been a member of Ralph's tribe. Tony didn't regret his decision; he was one of the higher-ranking members of the Hunters tribe and had done well since joining. But it wasn't Jack Tony worried about. It wasn't Jack keeping Tony from getting up and walking into the dark, even though his bladder was screaming.

Roger was out there.

The brown-haired boy with the dark, murderous eyes was the terror of every boy in the Hunters tribe. He was cold, brilliantly savage and ruthless. He rarely spoke, but meant every word he said, and had no tolerance for bullshit or half-measures- even less, in fact, than Jack did. The lanky blonde tended to look the other way when Roger did some truly sadistic things to punish kids for some failure… or just because they'd done nothing at all, and Roger wanted to take them down a peg and stop feeling so fucking perfect.

It wasn't like Tony cared, but he was pretty sure Roger had raped Eric. The twins were covering their asses a lot near Roger lately, trying hard to hide their almost uncontrollable fear of him. They'd fallen asleep on firewatch recently, and Jack had dismissively told Roger to "deal with it" and then gone back to sleep. Roger had dragged Eric away into the dark, his brother having no choice but to follow. They were gone a while, and didn't look at all happy when they came back. Sam spent much of the night crying, and Eric- oddly enough- stayed up the rest of the night on firewatch, comforting Sam and then letting him, at least, have a chance to sleep.

Tony didn't care a lot about that. Well, he did- but he knew better than to say anything. And how was he to even know that was what had really happened? How could you say for sure that Roger hadn't just dragged the twins away into the dark and spent twenty minutes harshly questioning them on the geopolitical situation of Brazil?

If that was the case, though, Tony shuddered to think what it would be like if Roger was given a free chance to punish you. Jack knew Roger favoured harsh, old-fashioned punishments for anything and everything possible. Not just to keep the boys in line and to make those few mistakes that happened one-time-only occurrences, but to cause some good old-fashioned pain. Roger liked it- Tony could tell. He liked seeing pain, causing pain- perhaps even feeling pain.

Roger was crazy.

Tony had a feeling about it for a long time, even when they were at the Academy; Roger was the meanest company commander in school. Cadet Captain and leader of Band Company, Roger was the best violin player in the band and the most violent boy in the school. He was superb at terrifying his victims into silence, though, and as a result had never, ever been caught.

Jack, Tony was sure, also knew that Roger sometimes meted out punishments to boys who had done nothing at all. He liked seeing others in pain, and Tony's guess was that if Roger even needed another reason- which he didn't it was that these random, totally unpredictable ambushes added even more terror in the ranks. Randomly leaping out of the dark to beat or whip one of the boys served a valuable purpose, keeping the fear in the Hunters fresh and their willingness to obey Roger and Jack absolute. Roger's random attacks were generally few, because too many would likely bring it to the notice of Jack and force him to rein Roger in. But as long as only a few random punishments occurred, and Jack remained undisputed as Chief of the Hunters? Tony could only laugh bitterly. As long as things stayed like that, Jack didn't give a shit what Roger did.

But oh, God_damn_ did he need to go.

"Dude," Billy said, scratching his short-cut blonde hair and looking over at Tony curiously, "Why do ya keep squirmin' like that?"

Tony realised he had his legs pressed close together where he sat across the fire from Billy, hoping the pressure would keep his bladder from letting loose. He furtively glanced behind him into the dark, ahead past the fire and towards the dead tree and the cliff. Jack had forbidden using the bathroom within ten feet of the camp perimeter, which these days ran from the base of the cliffs to the top of the grassy hill where the fire pit had been dug. "I don't want to wake up smelling shit and piss in the morning," Jack snapped when informing the tribe. "You gotta go, go where I ain't gonna smell it."

"And hope the Monster doesn't get you," Roger had added with a grim smile. It made Tony shudder just thinking about it, and that expression he'd seen on Roger's face. Perhaps the Monster wasn't so far from camp after all…

"Dude!" Billy said, interrupting Tony's thoughts. "What's up?"

"I gotta go," Tony confessed, feeling like a guilty boy confessing his reading of a 'magazine' to his priest.

Billy looked at him like he was an idiot. "No. Really? Go, man! Don't keep friggin' holdin' it. You know what Jack said. No pissing in the camp."

"Or shitting," Tony added.

"Or jerking off," Billy finished, making an addition of his own. The two boys chuckled, but just then a wave of faint agony hit Tony and he winced. He was gonna let loose soon if he didn't find a friggin' tree.

"_Go_, dude," Billy said, the humour gone from his voice.

"Sure?" Tony asked, casting nervous glances into the dark. Jack and most of the others not on guard duty were sleeping in the tall grass, aware only of the cool night air and the brilliant field of stars above and completely, totally ignorant of Tony's excruciating need to pee.

_Piss_, Tony reminded himself sternly as he struggled to his feet. _Piss. Teenagers like me take a piss. The little ones pee_.

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "I can stay awake by myself for a minute or two. No worries, man."

"No worries," Tony repeated, grateful beyond words as he jogged into the darkness. He made his way down the hill, taking the path that led directly inland and into the jungle. He followed it downhill, darting past the wide-awake sentries Tex and Patterson, who nodded to him in greeting but said nothing as Tony passed by.

He made it into the treeline, then just past it. Tony hurried behind a tree and lifted the band of leaves tied over his filthy underwear- he was probably going to have to ditch that soon. The idea of any of the boys- Roger especially- having a better look at his special places did not at all appeal to Tony, a homophobe to a certain degree.

Tony was just pulling his underwear down when someone grabbed him behind, coming soundlessly out of the darkness. The brown-haired boy started to scream but a hand was clamped over his mouth, and a hunting knife was pressed to his throat.

Jack's hunting knife.

The blade was so sharp it could slice skin like it was paper; the edge was part-smooth, part-serrated, and one good slash was all it would take for Tony to find out if there was a God very quickly.

Tony let the elastic band of his briefs go with a snap, his urgent need to go to the bathroom now made worse by his abject terror at what might be starting to happen. "Hold it," Roger's voice ordered, gripping Tony's neck tightly. Oh, God did his bladder hurt.

The younger boy tried to pull his underwear down, so at least if he did lose it, he wouldn't ruin his underwear permanently, but the knife was just jerked tighter against his throat, so sharply Tony let out a low whine of terror and started to cry. The pain was getting to him more every second, and his bladder was just screaming, screaming, screaming.

"Cry," Roger commanded, his voice low and eager. He knew Tony was in terrible pain, knew he was within sixty seconds of pissing himself, but didn't give a damn at all. In fact… Roger liked it. The whole thing- having such absolute power over Tony's life right now, and knowing that by exercising that power he could put the younger teen in awful pain- made Roger feel very good indeed.

Tony obeyed. He was in too much pain and too damn scared not to. The seconds ticked slowly by, seconds seeming like minutes and the first minute like an hour. Listening to the distant croaking of the frogs, Tony quietly wept, tears running down his face as his bladder screamed out for mercy.

"Jesus," he cried quietly, reduced to begging by a minute and a half. "Oh, Jesus, Rog-"

The knife was jerked tight against his throat then, and Tony let out a sob. "Don't say my fuckin name!" Roger hissed.

"Please, man," Tony begged as the second minute approached. "Please! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

"You're in pain," Roger whispered in his ear, leaning close. "That's good. Let's see how much more we can get out of you."

"Please," Tony whispered, but the knife stayed tight against his throat.

At two and a half minutes Tony lost control. He concentrated furiously on holding it in, terrified of what might happen if he somehow did something even more wrong than he'd apparently done already. But at exactly two minutes and thirty-two seconds, Tony's blinding pain reached a climax, and his vision nearly whited out. When it cleared, Tony could feel urine streaming out of his penis and soaking the briefs he'd tried so hard to save.

"Guh!" Roger said, or something like it, not a word but an inarticulate grunt of disgust. The knife was withdrawn. A dirty foot kicked hard against Tony's back, and his vision went white again as Tony cracked his head on a tree trunk, flung against it by the force of the blow. He continued to go, though, and struggled to his feet to pull down his pants. For what seemed like forever Tony stood there, tears on his face and absolute agony only slowly beginning to retreat as he pissed against the side of the tree. Finally he was done. Finally.

"I think I'm not done yet," Roger said reflectively. "I think you need a lesson for trying to piss on me."

Tony tried to back away, tried to say no, that really wasn't necessary, but Roger suddenly sprang forward and slammed Tony against the tree; he could smell the other boy's breath- he'd been eating something almost mint-ish- and the distinct smell of warm, fresh urine rising from the base of the tree beneath him.

"So why'd you do it?" Roger demanded, and Tony just whimpered. Roger wasn't satisfied by that, though, and slammed him against the tree again; the bark dug into Tony's bare back. "I didn't; I didn't, I swear!" Tony said, keeping his voice low as he'd been doing since the start of… whatever was happening.

"I don't believe you," Roger said flatly.

"I'll prove it!" Tony said in desperation, and a strange light danced in Roger's eyes, making them twinkle very oddly as they stared at Tony in the dark. Tony could have sworn Roger's eyes flicked up and down his body for a moment or two, like he was sizing up a nice piece of meat in the grocery store.

Tony suddenly felt very scared.

"Tony!" a voice barked, making both of them jump. "Roger! What are you doing out here?" The two boys at the tree turned, seeing the lanky form of their tribe leader materialize out of the darkness. His hair, normally quite filthy now, at least had less dirt in it, and the blood-and-charcoal war paint on his face, chest and arms was freshly applied. Jack's eyes were wary in the dark; clearly he was trying to figure out what had been going in here.

Stepping away from Tony, who stayed right where he was with his pissed-in underwear down about his thighs, Roger pointed with the hunting knife. "I caught him trying to sleep off his shift on the firewatch. Just got done punishing him."

Now Jack's eyes flicked to Tony, and the other boy felt real terror at the savage gleam he saw there. Jack wasn't gonna believe him if Tony said anything. That much was obvious. "You sure you're done?" Jack asked, his tone an invitation for Roger to continue.

The dark-haired boy's gaze swung back to Tony, who by now was so tired and scared he wanted to ball up and whimper in terror. When was this gonna end?

But instead of doing whatever he'd had planned, Roger just shrugged his broad shoulders; he was notably more muscular than Jack, who was lean and athletic but bony and on the thin side. He turned to Jack, shaking his head. "No," Roger said, seeming to forget Tony was even here- a new circumstance for which the other boy was extremely grateful- "He's learned his lesson."

Jack stared hard at Tony. "Have you?"

Immediately Tony nodded vigorously; he needed no coaching or 'encouragement' from Roger. He was doing this all on his own. "Yes," Tony said eagerly, "I'll never sneak off again. I'll never do it again, I swear I won't!"

For a few moments the blonde leader of the Hunters was silent, contemplating whether to not just tell Roger to do whatever he'd planned anyway. Jack got a quiet, secret thrill every time he came across Roger punishing one of the boys; it wasn't that Jack took pleasure in it the way Roger did, but rather that it amazed Jack just how effortlessly Roger controlled the other boys and brought them to tearful, sniveling subservience. It was… kind of cool.

Finally, Jack decided he'd better get Tony the hell out of here. He was thinking about some things that were none of Tony's fucking business, and didn't want to even take the slightest risk of Tony guessing it.

"Get your ass back up the hill," Jack said, and Tony gratefully turned and tripped over himself, his briefs restricting his haste to get away. Blushing furiously against Jack and Roger's laughter, Tony stripped off the pissed-in briefs and threw them away, scampering back out of the woods and uphill with nothing on but some jungle leaves tied about his waist. At least he was getting away. Thank God he was getting away. Tony wanted very much to be a big-shot in the Hunters camp. He wanted it more than anything right now. Maybe Jack had even told Roger to do that, to test how long Tony could hold his bladder and then how long it would take him to be willing to do literally anything for the torture to end. Tony sprinted back uphill to his post on firewatch, passing by Tex and Patterson- who had most definitely not heard a thing, in case anyone wanted to ask- and rejoining Billy in moments. Billy raised an eyebrow and asked if Tony had been banging some hot babe in the woods- and if so, was she up for a second round? Tony just laughed, doing much better than he'd thought he could at concealing his nervousness. Thank God I got away, Tony thought as he began the remainder of his shift and the relative normalcy of the night resumed. Thank God he let me go.

**XX**

Down at the bottom of the hill, perhaps twelve or thirteen feet past the treeline into the woods, Jack and Roger faced each other. A smart, clever boy, Jack had smelled the piss upon approaching Roger, and seen Tony throw away his briefs while fleeing. Giggling like a kid, Jack quickly put two and two together. "Uh," Jack laughed, "Did you seriously just-"

"Yeah," Roger said, grinning like a wolf.

"Wow," Jack sniggered. "You fuckin' psycho, Roge."

"Just makin' sure they know who's in charge, Chief," Roger said with a slight bow.

The hour passed; Tex and Patterson gratefully left their posts for bed as two other boys resumed the guard station. At this distance and in the darkness, it wasn't clear who it was. Neither Jack nor Roger cared much, though. Whoever they were, those were lesser boys than them. Strong enough to be Hunters, but not at all strong enough to be Chief or anything like that. They were just boys.

Of course, didn't that apply to Roger and Jack too? Sometimes, for all his carrying on about being Chief of the Hunters and everything else, Jack felt like a skinny kid with the love of adrenaline highs in his system and not much else. Just a bony-shouldered rich kid who was better than everybody here, above anyone and everyone except his hated enemy Ralph, and his best friend. His warrior chief, his right hand man and most loyal supporter since they day they'd met. Roger.

Jack even remembered late in the fall semester, when a propane tank explosion had sprayed a sandy-fine mix of metal shrapnel into his eyes. The damn think had gone off while Jack had been shooting an air rifle at it; how was he supposed to know he'd knock off its cap and set it off with a spark? Well, the 'accident' had left Jack blind and screaming in pain. Roger had found him first, thrown away the air rifle and carried the lanky blonde to the infirmary, blood leaking from his eyes. The head of the infirmary, a former combat medic with a fondness for keeping magnets at hand, had to shout at Roger to calm his friend down. The blonde was in a panic, kicking and screaming at anything and anyone who touched him; he couldn't see! He couldn't see! What in the hell could possibly be worse than- and then those hands had set themselves on his shoulders. And a voice had whispered in Jack's ear; "You're fine, boss. You got this."

Jack had gone still, his eyes wide and staring, still leaking a mix of blood and frightened tears.

Sighing and grumbling his thanks to Roger, the doctor had held up a large magnet, just strong enough for what he'd need. He waved it closely in front of Jack's eyes, waving it slowly back and forth. With a series of sudden, indescribable zipping sounds, a handful of thin, tiny fragments and slivers of steel jumped out of Jack's eyes and stuck to the magnet.

Turning to go to the phone and call the hospital, the doctor had said quietly to Jack, "If those steel fragments had stayed in for twenty-four hours, you'd have been blind for life."

For a whole week after that Jack had walked everywhere with a bandage wrapped over his eyes, not truly blind but still unable to see. They had saved his eyes, the doctors at the hospital said, in no small part due to the quick actions of the head of the Davidson Military School infirmary. They'd saved his eyes, and on that front Jack had been very lucky. But for a whole week, for seven twenty-four hour days, Jack would be blind. His eyes would stay closed, wrapped gently under a soft bandage, applied by a pretty nurse who asked Jack to sit nice and still and not open his eyes when she changed the bandage after dinner each day. Jack, told by Roger the nurse was indeed that one he'd been crushing on, was very cooperative indeed.

So during that week, Jack had been helpless and blind, quite unable to be the lively, indomitable badass he normally reminded everyone that he was. Instead, Roger had taken care of that. He'd immediately taken up the role of Jack's avenging angel, not even waiting for Jack to ask. The first one or two boys to make a mocking remark about Jack's lost sight were also the last. Roger went everywhere with a hand gripping Jack's arm, guiding the blonde wherever he needed to go. No one dared laugh about it after Roger broke a boy's arm for it. That was all anyone needed to hear about, rumor or no. During that week of recovery Jack had been quite dependent on Roger; this had really been the cementing of their friendship. The blonde would ask Roger what was this food on his tray, who was that over there he could hear but didn't know. In the mornings, Roger helped Jack get dressed, arranging whatever uniform it was that day and helping the lanky blonde into it would much trouble at all.

Looking at Roger in the dark, Jack remembered all this in moments… and also recalled the feel of Roger's strong, gentle hands on his bony shoulders.

In the time Jack was staring at his friend but not really seeing him, so lost in the past he forgot the present, Roger walked across the jungle floor, crossing the space between the two boys in moments. Roger could tell the silvery-blonde-haired boy was thinking about him; it was just something he knew. Suddenly Roger stood very close to his friend, and before the leader of the Hunters could do or say anything, Roger wrapped an arm around the blonde's back and pulled him close. Their lips brushed, and Roger kissed him.

Jack broke the kiss almost immediately, his eyes going wide with shock. "Jesus, Roge-" he exclaimed, and Roger just smiled at the blonde's use of that endearing nickname. He struggled, trying to push Roger away, but the stronger boy tossed aside the hunting knife, now holding Jack near him with both arms. He pulled the blonde close again and kissed him a second time.

The blonde didn't fight quite so much after that second kiss. He still was pushing at Roger, but his efforts were weak, half-hearted… like he didn't really mean it.

Roger walked them another ten feet into the woods, Jack stumbling backwards as Roger advanced. He looked startled, bewildered- but didn't react with any of the unbridled fury Roger knew Jack to use, whenever he didn't get his way and really, really had to have it. Then Roger shoved Jack up against a tree, the roughness in the movement making the blonde's eyes go wide.

"Ow!" Jack exclaimed when his head bumped painfully against the tree. "Hey!"

"Just shut up," Roger ordered, and set his hands on Jack's shoulders. He kissed him, and this time a startled moan escaped Jack's throat. Like he had no idea what the hell was happening- but perhaps was starting to like it.

The truth was, the dark-haired boy hardly had any better idea what was going on than Jack did. It might have been cool out on the open grass of the hill, but down here, past the trees and into the tropical forest, the humidity made it a lot warmer. Not hot- but nicely, very pleasantly warm. Roger liked that. He liked how clean Jack was, how every bit of flesh he had on his lanky, bony-shouldered frame seemed to be muscle. He just plain liked Jack. The two had been good friends ever since Jack had arrived at Davidson. Roger, Cadet Captain and company commander of Band Company, had begun working almost immediately to elevate Jack to a position of status and influence in his unit; it wasn't long before Jack held the rank he did now. Cadet First Lieutenant, executive officer of Band and leader of the Davidson cadet choir.

Roger outranked the blonde boy, but Jack was the more vocal of the two. He was the one who did the yelling, the talking- Roger, normally a boy who flatly refused to bow to anyone, quickly found himself giving more and more of the actual power in Band Company to Jack. It made a lot of sense, actually. Roger didn't really like being Captain that much. He liked the power that came with the position, and there was no doubt he was in charge. But he was a bully more than a leader- Roger had no qualms about admitting that, at least to himself. Roger hated the rules and laws of not only Davidson but society around him. Who in hell were these idiots to tell Roger he couldn't beat a kid until blood was on Roger's shoes- and then force the kid to lick the blood off as a final touch? Roger had never gotten to do that yet- there were just too many chances of getting caught- but oh, how he longed to. The dark-haired boy also understood that his abilities to lead and expand his influence in Davidson were limited; he really just wanted to hurt people and maybe steal some shit if he felt like it.

He was no talker- but Roger understood that it was the vocal, charismatic men- the ones like Hitler and Churchill, who had mastered the use of words to the point of it being an artform- who throughout history had been able to climb to the highest echelons of power. There was a place for boys like Roger- young men with iron hearts, who had no doubt that having the fear of men was far better than having their love. Roger was mesmerized by the tales of the Greater German Reich in history class, held spellbound as he was told of the Reichsführer-SS and Gestapo chief Heinrich Himmler.

That man hadn't been much of a talker- not really- but he had been so cold-hearted it made Roger stare at pictures of him in awe. Himmler was Roger's hero; and it had made Roger realise something about himself. He didn't really need to try to change his ways, to suddenly learn how to be one of those more vocal leaders who could command through words as well as force. No, there was little call for that, especially since Roger- a boy who hated wasting time with talk- would never be all that skilled with such things anyway. If Roger was Himmler, he mused in class one day, there had to be another boy- at this school or elsewhere- who was Hitler. Roger had sworn that he would never in his life willingly bow to anyone. Ever. But what if there was someone out there who deserved his allegiance? A stronger boy who had the capability to grow into what Hitler had been- a superior man?

Right from the day he'd arrived at Davidson, Jack had been talking back to staff, pushing and shoving and getting into fights with other cadets, and within a week had begun to situate himself. He finally began to tread more cautiously around the staff, not out of fear but because he knew they held power here, and working with them was what could gain him power in turn. Jack applied this same attitude towards the cadets of the Corps with equal single-mindedness.

All his life Roger had been looking for the right leader to be number-two man for. A chance to hand over his sword to a superior man. Jack was that superior man.

But not tonight.

Jack suddenly remembered a conversation from the other day; out on a hunt, when Roger had taken that flying leap and narrowly missed killing a wild pig.

The lanky blonde, hurrying to his friend's side: _Roge, you okay, man? That was some jump_.

The brown-haired boy grimacing, but speaking clearly: _Got him. Right up his ass_.

Then the twins joyfully shouting, _Up the ass_!

Jack's eyes suddenly went wider, and he again tried backing away. "Roge," he said in a low, nervous voice, "You _sure_ about this, man? I mean, we both got girls at home…"

"But we're never going home," Roger said. "You said so yourself."

"Yeah, but-"

"And there's no girls here. Nobody else, Chief. Just us."

"Yeah." Jack didn't even try to argue with that one. He looked down at the forest floor, then glanced back up at Roger. "Guess we better start getting used to this, huh?"

"Right, Chief," Roger said, nodding. Back at school he was a bit shy around Jack, somewhat bashful when the two were alone. Not here, though; not now. Roger felt very different from the way he did at school. Sure, he was an important figure there, one of the most feared boys at Davidson. But there were juniors and seniors, older boys who Roger knew he couldn't beat in a fight, much as he loathed to admit it. Sometimes Roger felt like he was just some brutish thug, albeit a cunning and intelligent one, if only more in the predatory sense.

But out here, a thousand miles from civilization, on this island and with no one to keep him from anything… Roger felt powerful. He felt _strong_.

Like he could overthrow the Chief if he wanted to. But would he? Not likely. For one thing, Roger actually preferred letting the lanky blonde be the figurehead while Roger worked ceaselessly to terrorize the ranks into blind obedience, working ceaselessly to give Jack's throne power. Roger got to hurt people know. Not long after they'd gotten here, he'd ambushed that little weakling Mikey in the forest near the beach, catching him just as he had been hurrying towards a fallen log to sit down and take a shit. Roger had threatened Mikey, promised to make him feel a lot of pain if he didn't hold it… so Mikey did, until he went in his pants. Now, several days later, Roger had done the same to Tony, waiting until he desperately needed to piss and forcing him to wait until he could hold it no longer. Roger loved the pain it put the boys in, how embarrassed and frightened they were. It made him feel good. _Real_ good.

And who did Roger have to thank for that besides Jack? How would he have any of those things if it wasn't for the brilliance and fiery leadership of Roger's best friend and only true superior?

Roger wanted to thank Jack his own way. He wanted to do something the both of them were gonna like… but he'd have to hurt Jack some first. It was the only way it was possible.

Jack spoke to his friend, his voice wavering oddly and his eyes shining in the dark. Roger thought he might have seen tears there. "Roger…" he said quietly, "We never are going home, _are_ we?"

Roger shook his head silently. Jack looked at the dark-haired boy, his eyes watery. "I-I wanna go home, man," he whispered, speaking the very words he knew Ralph was probably saying right now, right at this very moment. But he didn't care. It wasn't that Jack didn't want to go home- he deeply feared never seeing his kid brother Michael or his family again. Jack just recognized what Ralph refused to: that they were stuck here for good. No rescue was coming.

But Jack wanted to be rescued. Needed it. He fought against it every day, refused to keep the fire lit in the daytime because he knew that the rescue Ralph hope for wouldn't happen. But he still hoped it would.

The dark-haired boy stood very close to Jack now, their chests almost brushing. "Look," Roger said quietly, "We're better off here."

The blonde looked at his friend, blinking away tears. "H-how do you know that?"

"I know."

"_How_?" Jack demanded.

"I'll show you."

With that Roger kissed Jack again, and this time the blonde did not struggle, did not try to turn away. One of his hands gripped Roger's muscular right arm, squeezing a little. "All right," he said after a moment, then this time put his head forward and kissed Roger back. Their lips parted, tongues exploring the other's mouths. Jack stepped forward, pressing close; Roger could feel the blonde's groin brush against the inside of his left thigh. Many of the boys didn't bother with concealing themselves at all these days. Their expensive dress uniforms had long since rotted away in the tropical heat and in any case, what was the point? Nothing to see here the other boys didn't have themselves. Jack and Roger both wore pigskin about their front and back, and the forward flap of Jack's 'clothing' was brushed aside as the two boys embraced, exchanging kisses. Roger wanted to smile when he felt one part of Jack brush against him; the blonde was excited even if he didn't want to admit it. He wanted more.

Suddenly Roger stood back and shoved the blonde down; Jack sat down with a surprised grunt, the shark's teeth on his necklace shaking. "Woah," Jack said, but that was all he got out before Roger was over him, shutting the talkative Chief up with some more kissing. Roger had never gone very far with anybody. He didn't really want to. He hated to many people and too many things about girls to really want to waste time with dating them. Roger just wanted to use girls for what they were good for- pleasing boys and needing their teenage needs- and then discard them later, perhaps quite literally. It was all the same to Roger- eat, kill, fuck- except perhaps with Jack. Roger didn't really have any friends, had never really been close to anyone or felt loved- or wanted to love- in any way. His liking for inflicting pain on others was one of the only real highlights of his existence. The only exception to all that was Jack, the only person- guy or girl- Roger had ever really liked. He didn't think it was coincidence that they often took their showers in the barracks at the same time, or that they would stand across the locker room showers from each other after JROTC field exercises. There was nobody Roger ever really thought about much, except Jack. Just him.

Jack leaned up on his elbows, his voice low and a competitive gleam in his eyes. "I get to be on top," he said, in so sensual a voice Roger's heart soared.

"No," Roger said flatly. "I do."

"_Fuck_ that," Jack said. "I'm Chief!"

"How _about_ that?"

"Blow me!"

"We'll get to that later," Roger sneered. "First I have a go. Then we'll see if _you_ even can keep up."

Jack glared back up at Roger, not at all pleased to not be in control of something like this. Suddenly blinding pain filled his vision, and Jack tasted blood in his mouth as Roger backhanded him across the face.

"Ow!" Jack cried. "What the fuck do you-"

Roger smacked him again, feeling a secret joy at the pain he was causing Jack. Things were progressing very nicely. "I get to be on top," Roger repeated.

The blonde glared up at him, defiant still. Roger made a show of starting to raise his hand again, and Jack backed down. "Fine…" he said, only grudgingly giving ground.

_Oh, he'll be giving more than that soon enough_, Roger thought with a smirk.

"What's so funny?" Jack demanded, still the haughty and bossy Chief.

"You'll see," Roger smirked. Jack was still the big-shot in his own mind, indisputably the Chief. But Roger was in charge this time. He'd be gentle, though. Much more so than he'd been with Eric, anyway. At least here, he'd try to loosen the other boy up a bit first.

Reaching down at the other boy's waist, Roger untied the string-like material that held Jack's only remaining clothes in place, tossing it aside. He laughed when he saw Jack was hard; the blonde glared back but kept his silence. Spitting on his hands, Roger lifted Jack's legs and parted them. He leaned down and spat on Jack's hole, and the instant he prodded there with his fingers the blonde jerked and scrambled away.

"Roge," he gasped, "What the _fuck_-!"

"It's something I need to do," Roger said, "Unless you want this to _really_ hurt."

"But what-"

"Just trust me!"

The blonde paused, then finally lay back. "All right." He trusted nobody… except perhaps Roger.

Roger lifted Jack's legs, raising him so his behind was nicely exposed. This was going to be different than it had been with Eric- Roger could tell. That had been rape- Roger knew he'd been doing it and even now did not care. He'd needed to punish those stupid twins for falling asleep on firewatch. Hadn't he? Jack had told him to do it, and Roger always did what the Boss, the Chief, told him to do. Truth was he would stop this- what was happening- the minute Jack told him no. But he had to really mean it, and so far Roger didn't think that he did. Jack was just… afraid.

"It's all right," Roger whispered, leaning forward to kiss him as he gripped the blonde's legs.

"You sure?" Jack breathed, sounding uncertain. Roger just kissed him again. "Yeah."

Roger prodded Jack again with his fingers, and though he shuddered when Roger pushed them in, Jack did not move away. Roger paused now and then to spit on Jack's hole or his fingers, but otherwise concentrated on pushing them in and out, in and out, loosening Jack up as best he could.

"Ah," Jack muttered now and then, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky. His vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to two-letter words: "Oh", "Uh", and "Ah" were the most common, and the blonde shivered now and then. Roger could feel the other boy tighten around his fingers, and leaned forward again to kiss him when that kept happening.

"Relax," Roger said gently. "I'm trying to make it better."

The blonde grunted doubtfully, but he did relax a little after that.

After a minute or two, Roger withdrew his fingers, prompting Jack to give a low grunt of- surprise, pain, pleasure? All of them at once? Roger couldn't tell. All he could was that once he tossed aside his own pigskin clothing, took hold of his hardened member and pushed the head into Jack, the blonde squealed like Piggy and tried to scurry backwards, forgetting he was already sitting by a tree.

"Man," Jack panted, "I'm burnin' _up_, dude."

Roger noticed then that his body was coated in a thin film of sweat; Jack looked like he just finished some sprints in gym class. It was suddenly very hot out- at least twice as warm as it had been before. Damn, Roger thought, how didn't I notice that?

The dark-haired boy moved forward, pushing Jack's slim, athletic legs over his shoulders. He held Jack down as he began to squirm again, taking hold of his member and forcing it into the entrance between Jack's pale, rounded cheeks.

"Uh!" Jack grunted. "Oh, that _hurts_, man." But he didn't tell Roger to stop.

Roger pressed his waist forward until the boys' skin touched; he could feel his balls lying against Jack's pale behind. This felt _good_; Jack was tight around him, and it was already much better than it had been with Eric. That was punishment, anyway. _This_ was pleasure.

"Well," Jack grunted, "Get on with it." He panted a little, then added, "Unless you think you can't _handle it_."

Roger just grinned and balanced himself on his knees, concentrating on moving his hips forward and back. He slowly withdrew until only his head remained inside, then shoved himself in hard enough Jack cried out. The dark-haired boy began pistoning his hips, forward and back, forward and back. "Come on, _faster_," Jack taunted, breathing hard and sweating more as Roger picked up speed. "You can't do better than _this_?"

The dark-haired teen grinned wolfishly and threw himself into the task with gusto. Jack soon stopped talking and before long seemed to forget words entirely, his only comments subsiding to a wide range of sighs, pantings and grunts. "Oh," he gasped at one point. "Oh, shit."

Roger gripped Jack's pale, naked waist and kept going, his hands holding on tight enough there were probably gonna be bruises there tomorrow.

_What the hell_, Roger thought dismissively, _it's not the only bruise he's getting_.

Jack lay on his back on the green, plant-covered forest floor, feeling the sweet pain of Roger thrusting into him and the cool jungle leaves and soil at his back. Jack was not experienced, but he was a long way from a virgin- he'd been with three girls and it had never been anything like this. He felt the impact of each thrust by Roger, feeling the other boy's balls pat against his arse as he moved. Impulsively, Jack put a hand forward and set a hand on his own member; instantly some of the painful tightness in his rear seemed to lessen, and an almost agonizing pleasure took its place.

_Oh, shit_, Jack kept thinking, over and over as pain and pleasure began to race through his body in equal and ever-greater amounts, _Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit_.

The blonde started running the hand he had on his member up and down it, sighing and then moaning softly at the jolts of ecstasy it sent running through him. The pleasure was as great as the pain now, perhaps even greater than it- Jack had never, ever thought he'd one day do this, but now that he was he never wanted it to stop.

"Ohhh, _shit_!" Jack suddenly gasped, clenching and unclenching his jaw convulsively as he came, the warm stuff pumping out of him and splattering back towards Jack, onto his pale, slowly-tanning belly.

Moments later the rising feeling of ecstasy in Roger peaked as well, and he jerked himself out, grunting and then sighing as intense feelings charged his body. He'd never, ever done anything like this- never imagined he could feel something this good. Roger finished up, hot, whiteish liquid coming out of him and landing on the inside of Jack's left leg and some on his stomach. Then he was done; Roger let himself go, collapsing on the ground beside Jack. For a time, both boys were silent, breathing hard and sweating. Neither of them moved.

Jack reached over and put an arm around his friend's muscular shoulders. "Roge," he panted, "You okay, man? That was some fuck."

"Got you," Roger breathed. "Right up the ass."

"Think you could handle _me_?" Jack asked, his voice edged with competitive glee. Roger sat up, looking over at the blonde in the dark; in the moonlight coming down through the gaps in the trees, he could see that joyful, daring gleam in Jack's eyes. He wasn't about to be bested by Roger or anyone else- not even at this.

"I hope you can keep up," Roger taunted back. "I'll probably go to sleep."

"You'll _get_ some sleep," Jack winked, "But not before _I've_ tired you out."

Roger slapped him playfully then, and the two boys rolled onto each other on the forest floor, one being on top and then the other, wrestling playfully and laughing awkwardly when they noticed they both had hard-ons again.

Sitting over Roger, the blonde pushed his legs apart. Spitting this time on his own penis, Jack gently prodded Roger at the entrance a little, then shoved himself in. Roger grunted- the comparative lack of preparation was probably putting him in a fair amount of pain. But he didn't tell Jack to stop, and the grunts and sighs he was giving off suggested that he liked it.

"You must really love pain," Jack whispered, pushing himself in just as Roger had- going as deep as he could and stopping only when he was all the way in, his balls touching Roger's behind. "I _do_," Roger grunted back. "Come on, you pussy."

Jack laughed and began thrusting himself in and out, in and out. It was tight, more so than it had been even with Lauren Ramsey- and her cunt had been as tight as hell. Jack laughed at the memory; he'd sure loosened her up. Ecstasy soared through Jack, and he grunted as his breathing grew harder again and his balls started to really throb. He ached- ecstasy raced through him, overtaking and for a time wiping out the pain he knew he'd be feeling in his ass and hips tomorrow. The blonde thrust himself forward and then suddenly gasped, groaning something unintelligible as he came. He pulled himself out, Roger jerking himself off at the same time. The other boy came with a low grunt, that warm, white liquid jetting out and hitting Jack's smooth, taut belly. Then Jack sighed as the peak of the whole thing faded. Like Roger he collapsed with a low, pleasurable sigh, but instead of laying down beside Roger just fell on top of him. He could feel Roger's tense, strong muscles, loosened understandably by recent events. They were hot and sweaty, the both of them; Jack looked down and kissed Roger once, then lay down again as the other boy wrapped his arms around him.

They lay there like that for some time; Jack reflected on how absolutely spent he felt tonight. His penis ached, his balls throbbed; his whole body ached and throbbed, really. He'd never felt so good in his life.

Resting there on top of Roger, Jack gradually began to feel sleepy. "Roge, man," he said quietly, "What if somebody finds us?"

"They _won't_," Roger said with absolute confidence. "And if they do I'll kill 'em."

Jack laughed. "You asshole."

"Your dick was just in it."

"Yeah," Jack smirked, "and it was the best five minutes of your life."

"Try two and a half."

"Whatever," Jack smirked. "But I think you're gonna be a little too sore to make any jokes tomorrow."

"So will you," Roger said simply, and Jack laughed. He lay his head down on Roger's chest, marveling at the feel of the muscles there.

"Roge," Jack said softly as the frogs croaked in the distance, "This was great." He paused, then blurted out, "I love you, man."

"You faggot," Roger said, and they both laughed.

"Bet I'll be asleep before you," Jack smirked, speaking softly. "Give it five minutes."

Roger beat that easily. He was asleep in three…

Jack sighed as he drifted off to sleep, perhaps a minute after Roger did. He'd never felt so good, not ever before in his life. And for the first time since they'd landed on the island, he didn't feel hopelessly lost at the core. Suddenly he didn't feel so far from home. The two boys went to sleep naked on the tropical forest floor, their bodies so close together they might have been the same person.

* * *

**Notes:**

**This was the first stand-alone M-rated fanfiction I've written. That is, it's the first where the M-rated content is pretty much the main event of the story; in my other M-rated fanfic thus far, "Of War" for the movie "Elephant", only one chapter contained M-rated content. Or rather, only one chapter contained M-rated sexual content. Anyway. I got the idea for writing this fanfic from a number of M-rated fanfics on , most notably the "The Catcher in the Rye" fanfiction "An Unexpected Confrontation" by ArielleLN, the "Lord of the Flies" fanfiction "Jalph, Nice Rack" by JackMerridew25, and the "Lord of the Flies" fanfiction "The Dare for My Dear" by helterskelter-Walter. These are a specific type of fanfiction, and not one that just anybody is going to read. But that's what the M-rating is for. So that the only ones who find fanfictions like this are the ones who are likely to appreciate them. Reviews are always appreciated on any and all of my stories- but I do prefer something more articulate than "Um" as I once saw on another user's fanfiction story.**


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